


To the Edge of Night

by katamarii



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Hetalia Kink Meme, Introspection, M/M, Minor Violence, Nightmares, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katamarii/pseuds/katamarii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kiku treads on the path of dreams, and sees that which he fears. De-anon from the kinkmeme with some minor edits. Prompt was "Any/Any, nightmare of a partner dying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Edge of Night

~.*.~

 

_The man doesn’t flinch._   
  
__

_The Dragon rears up, tall and formidable. It rears up like a serpent twisting out of the sea, lips twisted into a snarl and whiskers curled in the wind. The light of the sun gleams off its body in a blinding sheen, terrifying beauty in every scale.  
  
_

_But the man, he doesn’t flinch. He has known the Dragon since the early days – when he still recalls the coldest rain and the warmth of bamboo thickets; when the crickets sing and a teal butterfly flits by his shoulder. He has known it, learnt from it… but now, now he has grown. He is stronger and ambition is fierce within his blood.  
  
_

_He grips his sword tighter, his face now but a mask as his gaze clouds with shadowed thoughts. When the Dragon rushes at him, he twists away, side-stepping as it snaps into thin air, narrowly missing his arm. He twists and he turns; a whirlwind breathed to life by Raijin and twirling, he drives the sharp blade deep into the belly of the beast.  
  
_

_The Dragon screams, thrashing, whipping crimson drops across his dark uniform.  
  
_

_He doesn’t flinch.  
  
_

_As he flicks the blood off his sword, he hears a menacing sound behind him. He turns and sees a Lion – magnificent fur of gold and flashing teeth and fire in its eyes – springing at him. He dodges, misses a step and feels a spike of pain down his side._   
  
__

_They were allies once, the Lion and he – allies with shared interest of things like appreciating tea and viewing blossoms together; allies in a world of many disputes and of distrust, a world slowly spinning out of control. They were allies once, until one day he spoke his thoughts aloud and the Lion disagreed. Favouring a new ally, the Lion disagreed and then – blink and you’ll miss – they were friends no more.  
  
_

_But still, but still, he doesn’t flinch.  
  
_

_Instead he waits, gripping his side to stem the wound; waiting and watching. The Lion leaps at him again, roaring–  
  
_

_–and again he strikes out, his sword singing and the Lion lets out an angry but defeated cry._   
  
__

_Another flash, this time of brown feathers and of hooked talons and then a searing heat burns at his shoulder. He lifts his eyes to the sky, the whiteness of the sun blotting out everything but a black silhouette skimming just around the edge of his vision. He tightens his jaw stubbornly, only to lift his sword higher._   
  
__

_The Eagle soars high above him, outstretched wings slicing through the sky like knives. Its screech resounds across the burning fields and echoes off the crumbling rock face. The man understands it for what it is – a challenge, a declaration of war._   
  
__

_He doesn’t flinch, and almost, almost wants to laugh. But he is never one who is articulate in expressions, either in countenance or in speech. He defeated the mighty Bear once, out in the cold winter storm and thus he does not fear the Eagle’s wrath. So he doesn’t laugh and instead rushes to meet its dive.  
  
_

_He will free those like him from the inhibiting powers, from the imposing Beasts, the_ gaikokujin. _He will free and lead them to a greater future._  
  


Hakkō ichiu. _The world under one roof._ His _roof._  
  
 __

 _He will be their guide – or that is what he keeps telling himself, what_ they _keep telling him.  
  
_

_"You are one of pride and of power, of honour and of military might. Your sword, your sword must always be sharp and ready, to cut and to slice. Your sword must be sharp with nationalistic pride and–"  
  
_

_He blinks, uncertain and for a moment, he isn’t quite sure what he’s doing or why. But no, he’s come too far and_ they _urge him on and the Eagle is diving at him, a flurry of talons and feathers and a curved beak–  
  
_

_He blinks, and then rushes forward, lunging, striking with his sword.  
  
_

_His heart pounding, his breath rasping through his lungs, he doesn’t realize at first, that something is amiss. And suddenly, suddenly, he feels the pain; the white-hot burning pain, the fire coursing through his veins and oh–  
  
_

_He staggers, a crimson stain blossoming across his chest. He coughs, he chokes… but no,_ they _tell him he cannot stop, he cannot yield._  
  


Rise Nippon; rise and fight. For pride and power and for honour–  
  
 __

_The Eagle strikes again and a hundred thousand screams fill his ears before he is blinded by the excruciating pain in his gut. He falls to his knees, his heart rending at the cries, at the pain oh, stop we must stop, please just, dammit – Just stop._   
  


Rise Nippon; rise and fight.  
  


Fight.  
  


Fight.  
  


Fight.  
  
 __

_The man flinches, clenching his jaw against the voices, against the pain, against the cries. He clenches his jaw, tightening his grip on his sword, his uniform drenched in crimson._   
  


Fight, Kiku.  
  
 __

_The man moves, charging and slashing and driving his sword forward–_   
  
__

_–and right through the chest of the figure suddenly standing before him. He starts, surprised, his breath short and sharp. The mists clears from his eyes then, and as the figure staggers against him, he finally catches a glimpse of the other man’s features; of wavy brown locks and olive skin, of blue and green coalesced together like an ocean storm._   
  
__

_"No...."  
  
_

_He meets those teal-coloured eyes, the fire in them slowly dying, dying and sees his own hands run red…  
  
_

_A cherry tree withers; the world collapses around him, shattering._   
  


 

*

  
Japan bolted upright in his bed, gasping sharply, his heart drumming so quickly his chest hurt. His yukata clung to his back, damp; the sheets entangled around his limbs. A sliver of sweat traced his forehead and down the slope of his neck.  
  


Disorientated, he looked about him tentatively, cautiously, as if to ascertain his surroundings were real, and not just shards of a leftover dream… He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He breathed, slowly, deeply, and told himself to keep calm and that it was nothing, merely fragments of a past long gone. A dream, it was only a dream, and he was not a child anymore.  
  


His hands were still wrung tightly into the blanket, his fingers still trembling slightly.  
  


“… Japan?”  
  


He looked to his side, startled by the sleepy, husky voice and felt gentle warmth as Greece encircled his fingers around his pale hand.  
  


Japan watched the other man quietly, trying to steady his heartbeat. He didn’t answer. Groggily, Greece looked up at his friend, glancing over him with concern. Japan’s features were characteristically impassive, though Greece noticed the slight increase of tempo in the Japanese man’s breathing, and the haunting look in his dark eyes. He squeezed Japan’s hand softly, trying to offer some form of comfort.  
  


“A dream?” The Grecian asked gently, sitting himself up so he could study Japan’s face better in the dark.  
  


“… A nightmare.” Japan hesitated, meeting Greece’s gaze for a moment, before glancing back down to his fingers. “You were… I...”  
  


He swallowed thickly, unable to finish his sentence. He held back the pieces of memories threatening to unfold again, to overwhelm him with images he didn’t wish to remember.  
  


Greece seemed to understand.  
  


“It’s the same nightmare from before.” He ventured carefully.  
  


Japan hung his head low.  
  


They didn’t speak for a moment, their fingers still laced together in comfort, in reassurance against the nightly fears. Then Greece leaned in closer, and gently pulled Japan towards him, wrapping his arms around him, as if he were physically making himself a protective barrier against spectres of the dream.  
  


At any other time, Japan might have pulled away politely, might have said something about Greece being too forward, too openly affectionate with his actions (even though there were no public eyes to see them now). But he was weary of such dreams, and against the creeping chillness of the night, Greece’s touch was everything Japan needed to chase away the memories of a past he’d rather not revisit.  
  


So he let Greece pull him closer, let himself ease into the warmth and fold of Greece’s embrace as they lay spooned against each other on their shared futon, their breaths soft and slow in the cold stillness of the night.  
  


Greece nuzzled his nose gently into Japan’s hair, humming a tune at the back of his throat. He hummed softly at first, his breath tickling the side of Japan’s neck. He hummed, and slowly, gradually began singing a tune in his own tongue, in his mother’s tongue, a lullaby of days long forgotten and times of old:

 

_“Home is behind, the world ahead  
And there are many paths to thread  
Through shadow to the edge of night  
Until the stars are all alight  
Mist and shadow, cloud and shade  
All shall fade  
All shall fade.”_

 

Japan’s knowledge of Greek was rudimentary, but he understood the message embedded into it, into each line of the melody, each rhythm and slur of the notes that rolled easily off the Grecian’s tongue like honey. Empires rise and fall, and nations too would cease to exist someday - all things faded in time, he knew. But right now, tucked neatly in Greece’s embrace, his warm breath murmured into his ear as the Grecian continued his song, Japan could pretend that the world stood still for a moment, and that they had all the time they wished.  
  


“ _Girisha-san._ ”  
  


“ _Nai, Iapo̱nía?_ "  
  


“ _….Hanarenaide kudasai._ ”  
  


“I'm right here.”

  
  
**_-owari-_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations:**  
>  _gaikokujin_ – literally "person (or people) from outside of the country", non-Japanese, foreigner.  
>  _Nai, Iapo̱nía?_ – Yes, Japan?  
>  _hanarenaide kudasai_ – Please don't leave
> 
> :::::
> 
> "They" refer to the nationalists and militarists, Japan's bosses during the Imperial times. What "they" wanted back then didn't necessarily reflect the Japanese people's wants (or needs) as a whole.
> 
>  _[Hakkō ichiu](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hakk%C5%8D_ichiu)_ – literally meaning "eight cords, one roof" i.e. "the world under one roof." It was a Japanese political slogan popularly used from the second Sino-Japanese war up to WWII. The original concept was an idealistic wish to liberate Asia from the colonizing powers of the West and to create a [Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greater_East_Asia_Co-Prosperity_Sphere). The nationalists used this to gain resources to keep Japan as a modern power, and the militarists used those same resources as raw materials for war. Many Japanese at that time were drawn to the idea of _hakkō ichiu_ , and were convinced that the sphere was idealistic, therefore praising it for "constructive efforts and peace". The reality sadly, was far from it.
> 
> The Chinese dragon, the lion, the bald eagle and the bear are all national animals of China, Britain, America and Russia respectively.
> 
> "They were allies once, until one day he spoke his thoughts aloud and the Lion disagreed." – One of the many factors that led to the eventual dissolution of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance in 1923 was the [Racial Equity Proposal](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Racial_Equality_Proposal,_1919) in 1919 by the Japanese delegation, which received strong opposition from the British delegation.
> 
> The poem that Greece sings at the end isn't really a Greek poem; it is actually an excerpt from JRR Tolkien's poem _[A Walking Song](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Walking_Song)_ found in The _Fellowship of the Ring_. It was rephrased and sung in one of the scenes in _The Return of the King_ movie. I thought the excerpt had good ambiguity to it and can be taken both ways; symbolising an eagerness for the exploration of new things (when one steps out of their home) and to return eventually, or something a little darker and more sombre with the realisation that life is transient and all things shall pass in their own time.
> 
> [The instrumental score](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A--9yJwQeN8) (with the poem at the end) which inspired the dream sequence in this fic.


End file.
